Teardrops
by Mipiko
Summary: Tears had a way of doing that, washing away every sad emotion regardless of what he or she was feeling. Of course, Ia wasn't one to cry very often, so she supposed that's why she had to depend on the sky's teardrops instead.


The sun was beaming through the heavy, white clouds that day. Ia secretly hoped it would rain later on, just to give her the opportunity of dancing in the clouds' tears – bring some joy into her world. Tears had a way of doing that, washing away every sad emotion regardless of what he or she was feeling. Of course, Ia wasn't one to cry very often, so she supposed that's why she had to depend on the sky's teardrops instead.

The rain would have at least kept her hair flat and still, unlike the breeze that treated her hair like its own marionette, maneuvering it elsewhere, however it pleased.

Ia had to stretch her arm quite often just to pat the wild mess of pink-tinted blonde on top of her head down, and pull its strands away from her eyes. She liked to watch the waves of the beach without distraction, after all, though sitting by Crypton in the direction of the current wasn't her smartest decision that afternoon.

She knew she would easily get into trouble for neglecting to take her stage outfit off, but she always met the ocean face to face, without hiding behind anything. The fish would pass her secrets along to other fish, spreading the news of what was troubling Ia that particular evening. The waters carried her sadness and fears, and washed them far away where she could never stumble upon them again.

Then there were the blue hues of the water that she knew she had to see; they were reflecting the skies' colours into Ia's eyes. Gray and crystalline shades accompanied the cerulean and aqua, but the young girl always preferred the one colour that made her feel like she was staring into the eyes of a certain boy.

"_Maybe we should end it. . . For real this time."_

His words were still imprinted in her mind, like ink on paper – in-erasable. At least, Ia assumed it was Len who called their relationship off, but for someone with an eidetic memory, she couldn't recall who had suggested it first; she just knew, without a doubt in her mind, that they both agreed on it in the end.

They had had more arguments about their jobs than Len dying in his songs, more disputes about the little things than about the amount of women and men KAITO had wrapped around his finger. When Len and Ia fought in the recording booth, the Producers knew not to interfere; when Len and Ia fought, Miku would start baking her infamous batch of zucchini and leek cookies and Rin would load the road roller.

And sometimes, just sometimes, she would envy those around her, whose relationships were seemingly perfect, where no one would raise their voice unless it was to congratulate their partner on an achievement in their careers.

In all honesty, Ia had always thought, ever since she could remember, that once she fell in love, the world would wait in line after her, and postponed its plans to blow up, become invaded, or any other ridiculous notion that came to mind so long as she was finished with her own life. As naïve as she was back then, and perhaps even now, the young Vocaloid of First Place figured that the difficult part was finding her knight in shining armor.

No one ever told her the castle had hundreds of men, decorated in shiny coats of metal in order to hide their flaws underneath their musical exteriors.

Not that she minded the flaws that came with Len, of course. But sometimes her fantasies got the best of her; they'd distract her in her line of work, both during her day and night jobs. Distract her from seeing the obvious tension between her and Len, but she couldn't help herself. She had spotted Len Kagamine in his suit of armor, and forgot to think rationally. But then again, if she wasn't thinking straight, then there's no telling what Len was thinking either. He was just as delusional as she was, and Ia had mused that that's what their fights were there for: to bring them back to reality.

It just took her a long time to realize that neither of them liked reality very much.

* * *

The most difficult thing for Ia to do after each break up with Len was pretending he didn't exist, because he clearly does, or pretending to hate him, because she obviously didn't. It exhausted her, to try to tell herself that the Vocaloid adjacent to her in meetings was _not_ Len Kagamine, that the hero throwing a punch or two to save her life every other song was _not_ the fair-haired, banana-loving Cryptonloid, that the boy holding her hand in her dreams was _not_ the boy she fell in love with.

"Hey, there you are!"

Len running into her whenever she wanted to be alone hadn't helped either. He was her mentor, her partner, her best friend – moving on was as difficult as admitting they shouldn't be together, and doing that had already torn up half her heart up. Attempting to move on would just rip out the other half.

Everyone else must have been at home, or watching a movie inside his living room, Ia figured, seeing as Len had on his button up shirt and dark jeans instead of his usual stage outfit. She hadn't greeted him initially, still trying to pretend he wasn't there, but his image grew larger in her peripheral anyway, and so she gave up. She turned and said, "Hello".

He sat nearby, but not too close to her. An arm span's distance away from her actually, which was a whole arm farther than he had ever sat away from her before.

He seemed to be watching the crashing waves along the sandy shore, behind those sunglasses of his. But Ia knew he was only _pretending_ to be focusing his attention elsewhere when in reality, he was staring at nothing in particular; he just didn't want to ruin her concentration when she was fixated on something, even if that something was him. He kept still until she spoke.

"How are you?" She started casually, almost too generally. She turned her head away from him before he could answer, and could tell from the corner of her eyes that he had also taken off his shades. They were no longer Vocaloids sitting by one of the most respected Companies, just a girl who was waiting for the rain and a boy she had grown very fond of – he also just happened to be the knight in shining armor that she broke up with two weeks prior.

"I'm alright. . . You?" He dipped his head to the side, adjusting his sight to see her.

Ia focused on the azure colours of the water. She desperately wanted to be lost at sea at that moment, instead of in his eyes.

She didn't answer him right away, because telling him that she was fine was a lie, and he knew her well enough to know when she was lying. Telling him that she wasn't fine, however, was clearly something she couldn't even admit to herself. Her thoughts were heavy with emotions, a compilation really, of every feeling she had felt from the beginning to the end of their relationship.

So in all honesty, Ia didn't know what she was feeling. She wasn't fine, but she wasn't _not_ fine. There wasn't a proper term for what was going on in her mind. And so she shrugged and hoped that with Len, it was a good enough answer.

"So I've been thinking," Len started, "All those things you said about me the other night: they were true – I'll admit that. But you know all those things I said about you? They were true, too."

She knew there was a grin on his face, a sheepish one at that. Perhaps he was waiting for her to elbow him in the ribs, or start a screaming match, but she didn't do any of that. She admitted it too – though more to herself than anyone else – that what they said the other night, every word that came out of their mouths, every insult, every _fine_ detail, was true.

"What we said about each other is what makes us: _us_, Len. We can't necessarily fix that," She said, and shifted her eyes towards him. Her fingers played with the hem of her shirt, and her toes buried themselves into the sand. Ia knew though, that it didn't matter how much she tried to distract herself from Len; her mind would only focus on him, and only him.

That's how her brain worked. She could be doing something entirely different, irrelevant to the young blond, and yet her pulse will speed up because everything she did reminded her of him, and on the rare chance that it didn't, her mind would still bring him up. Like a boomerang that always flew back no matter how hard or far she threw it away; it always knew to come back.

"No, we can't," Len said nonchalantly, and leaned towards Ia by in an inch or two – she pretended not to notice – before smiling again. "But we definitely have something wrong with us if we keep fighting like this." He continued to watch her, waiting for her response.

Ia ignored his stare, and glanced down at her toes, massaging them in the grains of sand. Without looking back up, she said, "And what do you think we should do about that then? I'm sure you have a brilliant scheme."

"Friendship."

"What?" She lifted her head so that she could face Len. She parted her lips, and stared at him wide-eyed, as if his suggestion was ridiculous, that it was completely foreign to her thoughts. It was a similar reaction she had had when she first found out why most Vocaloids from opposing companies never seemed able to stay together; something that was entirely unheard of, but once she thought about it for a while longer, was understandable.

"Being friends," Len said, "You know, the whole hanging out without making out thing we did for a while? We could try that – I'm sure Luka and Meiko wouldn't mind us terrorizing the company grounds again dancing to Touhou."

He grinned once more and it was unfathomable to Ia how someone in their line of business and with his kind background could always be so cheerful and optimistic. And yet here was a boy who disproved all her beliefs, always having something in the back of his hand to surprise her with – it was something that drew her to him; she admired the way he would pull up a smile out of thin air, and still manage to add excitement into her life. It was something she loved about him.

Letting a breath escape her lips first, Ia spoke: "Do you honestly think it'll work – after what we've been through?" There was a pang of regret the moment the words came out into the open air, and Ia's fingers played with the ends of her shirt more furiously as she was anxious for his answer. Her eyes remained open, but they shifted back and forth from the ocean and to Len apprehensively.

He swallowed. "It wouldn't hurt to try, Ari."

She stopped moving, and focused her vision to the scenery across from her to avoid his confident watch.

It would, actually. It _would_ hurt to try, but she didn't say anything.

"You know there are plenty of showers inside the building. . . you don't have to wait for the rain."

It was typical of him, to know exactly what she was doing regardless of whether she told him or not. Typical of him to decide to start their new relationship – _friendship_ – at that very moment, as he opted to stay outside with her for a little longer than necessary; he didn't want her to feel lonely outside, he claimed.

"There's a difference between the rain and a shower, Len," Ia pointed out the obvious, breathing in the ocean air and looking at the grey patches in the sky. She heard a faint grunt in response, but soon afterwards, all she heard was the crashing waves filling her ears; she felt a little bit content that neither of them was talking. It allowed her some time to think to herself.

The last time they were _just_ friends, she was a new face in the business. There had been meetings and rehearsals and Producers who had wanted to put them together. Ia couldn't exactly bring up conversations that they used to have back then, because they were Idols now and she was out of the small leagues.

Except that now, she wasn't completely sure what to talk about, other than the new up-and-coming Vocaloids and her life at First Place; the latter he was already completely aware of because she talked about her life there anyway when they were dating.

Thankfully it was Len who spoke first, some twenty minutes later, and Ia felt a wave of relief wash through her, knowing that she didn't have to come up with a conversation starter.

"So I'm thinking about heading to the recording studio later," he said.

She nodded. "I'm guessing that means no 'fun' trivia games later tonight?"

"Nah, probably not – the others wanted a break anyway."

The corners of her lips curved upwards the moment she could register a reply. "Lenny-kins isn't scared of his family seeing me beat their 'trump card' _again_, is he?" She teased.

In response, Len gave his signature smile, and scratched the back of his head. "You know I have a reputation to build on, Ari. I wouldn't want them to think I was having an off day _twice_ while going up against you."

Ia laughed, raising her hand to cover her mouth.

" 'Bout time I got a laugh from you," Len said, then: "Don't really know when I can meet you when I have more free time, though. . . Master wanted to go over a few things with me before he leaves for the next Company."

"Ah, the old 'father-son bonding' excuse," Ia mused. "You should just call it a 'boy's day out,' Len, instead of all this music business junk that you two make up."

Len shrugged. "Hey, if he's not calling it that, then I'm _definitely_ not giving in." After getting up, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his pockets and placed them back onto his face. "Speaking of Master, you change your clothes, Ia – wouldn't want the big, old, all-knowing Master to ground you from singing."

She stuck her tongue out at him and then asked, "Leaving so soon, Len?"

He sighed. "Yeah well, you know. Master's pretty crabby if I'm late, and I have a dinner date with some rookies later on, too. I have to look my best for them," he said, tugging the collars of his shirt and winking at her.

Ia's smile widened as she replied, "Better leave now then; God knows how long it takes for you to look your best." She grew silent immediately after, and knew that there was still a list of words piling up on the tip of her tongue, but was hesitant to get any more comfortable with the situation. But as Len began walking off towards the entrance of Crypton, she added: "Don't forget to tell Meiko and Luka if you stay past curfew!"

Len gave her a wave with his back facing her, but it wasn't long before he stopped his tracks. Turning his head to look at her, Len was only a few steps away from where he was sitting just moments earlier.

"Ia, just so you know. . ." he began and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down while he gulped, "Even if we aren't together, I'll always be there to catch you when you jump."

She nodded happily, but the moment he was out of sight, her smile faltered. She knew he was talking about music videos, how he would always be her partner no matter what was going on in their personal life, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, she sort of wished he wasn't just talking about having her back for their jobs.

She wished he was with her all the time.

Ia welcomed the rain with open arms. Like a child to their parent, she ran towards the shore, arms spread out like wings to invite the rain to shower over her, washing away the stress and worries that seemed to cling onto her like a shirt onto skin on a humid day.

The rush of the heavy rain had zoned out the sounds of waves crashing against ocean shores; it felt cool against her skin, as it attempted to relieve her of every bit of anxiety she had in her. She dropped her arms and melted into the sky's teardrops, and it didn't take long before her hair and clothes were completely soaked. But no matter how long she stood there, she couldn't pull her mind off of Len.

His image was still clear in her thoughts; his words were still ringing in her ears. And somehow, at some point during her dance with the rain, her face was wet without the help of the weather. She hadn't been planning on crying that day, but the word _friendship_ from his mouth continuously echoed in her mind until it drew out the tears she had been holding back for hours.

Biting her lower lip, Ia inwardly cursed at her thoughts. She valued their friendship, possibly more than she valued a lot of things, but the thought of not being able to hold his hands, or be enveloped in his hugs and kisses without it insinuating _something_, was unbearable.

"_I don't need you to act like our Master!"_

"_I wouldn't have to if you would start acting more responsible, Len!"_

She repetitively told herself it was for the best, that things were _horrid_ when they were together. Finding those unhappy memories were easy, and her brain had a whole department reserved for them.

"_Are you crazy? That stunt could've killed Gakupo!"_

"_Well I got all the moves right in time, didn't I?"_

Ia kept her eyes closed, tilted her head so that her face was parallel to the sky, and prayed that the storm would be enough to wash away her heartbreak. The feeling of cool droplets splashing onto her face helped somewhat. Even if Len wasn't nearby, it eased her knowing that her tears could be mistaken for the rain.

"_That was supposed to be a secret! You had no right doing that!"_

Finally, she sank down onto the sandy terrain. Falling onto her bottom, she sat there with her knees slightly bent, and both of her hands covering her mouth as she sobbed as heavily as the downpour.

"_You spend more time with your friends, or with your job – _both _jobs! It's like I don't even exist anymore!"_

She opened her eyes and could see the bright, blue sky peeking through the patches of grey and white, but the rain thankfully never stopped. Even the skies knew of her troubles that day; it showed no indication of ending its tears, and was just waiting patiently for Ia to be done with hers.

"I _can pay for the meal, Len. Just because you have the money doesn't mean you get to be the one who spends it all the time."_

She continued to force the same message into her brain over and over again: that being friends with Len wouldn't be so bad, because they were actually _really_ good friends.

But the voice in her head reminded her that when they were together, they rarely argued over the same things twice. And although Ia tried to convince herself that it was because they had a talent for arguing about basically anything in the entire world, a sharp feeling in her chest said that their relationship developed through these arguments; they would learn what had ticked the other person off, and would know not to repeat whatever it was again.

Ia was growing immune to the pain; these sad, horrible thoughts no longer bothered her like it should have. Although they began as painful memories, they became a sort of reminiscence and she didn't want them to stop. She _couldn't_ let go of the thought of him. She _refused_ to let them go. She was addicted to the _thump-thump-thump_ of her heart whenever the two so much as brush hands.

"_Let me just wash the dishes."_

"_No, I can. You cooked!"_

She stayed motionless on the shore, however, regardless of the hurricane in her thoughts. She only blinked when she had to, and with each flicker of her eyelids, a teardrop would accompany along with it.

"_Time to get you away from the computer, Ari."_

"_Oh, and what do you suggest I do then, Lenny-kins?"_

"_How about the rooftop of Yamaha's tallest building with some of your favorite books and a picnic basket?"_

Ia gulped, and sniffed a few times before wiping the remaining drops from her face. It hadn't quite helped, considering the moment she wiped them away, the rain would make it wet again.

"_Be careful, Ia."_

"_You too, Len."_

Finally, she pushed herself upwards, stabilizing herself onto her bare feet.

Ia shook her head at her idiocy; during that brief moment of time, when she had forced upon herself all of the miserable memories she and Len had shared –

"_I love you."_

–she had realized something: that friendship thing? She didn't want it.

She didn't want it _at all_.

It started off as a slow paced walk, and then a jog, but by the time she got to the rocky terrain, and her feet felt bruised each time it stepped over the hard earth and the seashells that decorated it, slightly prickled by the remaining beads of sand that were still all over her feet, Ia ran as fast as she could around the mountain.

Her wet hair clung onto the sides of her face and neck. She was used to skin tight clothing thanks to all of those photo shoots, so the damp outfit hadn't bothered her in the slightest bit. Her surroundings weren't the main focus of her mind though, but just that one person whose face could brighten up her day even on her worst days.

It was also the face she had stumbled upon, not too far from Crypton's entrance.

She stopped her tracks, and there was a good ten feet in between them. She parted her lips slightly, helping her soak in the ocean air because it seemed that her nose wasn't enough to help her breathe. Only her shoulders and chest moved as she panted from the run and her eyes were fixated on the boy in front of her whose hair was just as wet as hers and whose clothes clung onto his body like her own. It seemed that he too, had run back to that spot just to find her.

Len was usually the first to speak between the two of them, even after their fights. He always knew what to say, or how to heal people, but this time, Ia wouldn't let him.

"I don't want to be just friends with you," she said loudly, trying to overpower the rushing sound of the rain and ocean waves. Her face slightly wrinkled as the words fell out of her mouth, and she clapped a hand over it; the tears fell anyway. The lump in her throat came back again, twisting with each sob.

"Neither do I," he replied. There was a look of seriousness on his face.

His words were enough to send erratic waves through her chest, but Ia ignored it. Instead, she released her hand from her mouth. "What are we going to do then. . . if we're not going to stamp a friendship sign over everything?"

As if on cue, he tipped his head slightly back with closed eyes, running a hand through his hair and pushing the strands away from his eyes. "We really need to figure this out," he said, but his voice cracked, barely audible to Ia. Facing back to the young girl, he approached her. "We just. . . We just. . . Look at us! We keep coming back together because we _know_ our relationship _will_ work, we just don't know how, but damn it, Ia, I'm not some knight in shining armor and you're not a princess stuck up in a tower."

A gasp escaped her lips as his words entered her mind, and when they did, the corners of her lips were tugged upwards. She shook her head, more to herself than for Len, because she knew he was right: he _wasn't_ a knight in shining armor that she had been expecting. The King may have had hundreds of knights in the castle waiting for her, but Len _wasn't_ one of them.

He wasn't a knight in shining armor. He was an artist clad in Kevlar, as was she. She shouldn't have expected anybody else.

And when she looked up after this realization, he was less than a foot away from her. The feeling of his hands reaching out for her snapped her out of her thoughts. He dipped his head down, resting his forehead against hers, a hair length's distance between the tips of their noses, his breath tickling his skin, her fingers climbing around his back, tugging him closer. He lifted up one hand to support the back of her neck, and his eyes were still entranced with the sight of her.

She gave a soft smile. "Then we'll keep trying – we'll figure out how to make this work."

"We will. And don't get me wrong," he added, "we would've been great at being just friends, but we're better as –"

"We're better as friends who hold hands. . . and hug. . . and. . ."

He kissed her in the rain that night.

He'll kiss her again when it stops.


End file.
